What's the Date Today
by MadreLoca
Summary: It wasn't that Conner was anxious to die.  He was tiered.  He just wanted to go home.  Home to Murphy.  NOT HAPPY!  NOT SLASH EITHER!


**Title **– What's the Date Today?

**Summary** – It wasn't that Conner was anxious to die. He was tiered. He just wanted to go home. Home to Murphy. NOT HAPPY! NOT SLASH EITHER!

**Rating** – T, if it should be M let me know

**Comments** – WARNING: This is a character death fic with heavy, and I mean HEAVY religious themes, and not just any character death fic mind you, as NOTHING like this has been done in the fandom before. Also, all of those looking for slash shall be greatly disappointed as there is no slash present here. If yo still wish to R&R (the second R stands for **review**, mind you) well, that's what I posted it for. Please continue.

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Conner couldn't say he disliked the idea of capital punishment. After all, isn't it the exact same thing that he and Murphy had done, only having bypassed the legal system? It was capital punishment that legally turned evil men into dead men, it was capital punishment that made an example out of those who chose to push the bounds and cross over into true corruption. It was also capital punishment that would soon put Conner MacManus out of his misery, to send him home. Home to Murphy.

Little did Conner remember how it all had happened, how he had ended up here. One moment he was crouched under a desk in the office of some mob boss, the next he was strapped to a hospital bed hooked up to IVs and vital signs monitors, listening to the steady wailing of a heart monitor that defiantly wasn't his. At first he thought he was having another nightmare, another flashback to Romeo's death in the medical ward of the Hoag. A turn of his head to his left relieved that this was no nightmare, this was real, this was the Hoag _again_. And that heart monitor flat-lining? That was Murphy.

Conner barely remembered struggling against the restraints, but they held tight, not allowing him to rush to his twin's side. He tried to speak but was silenced by whatever drugs had been pumped into his system. Nurses rushed to him, and he heard one of the doctors saying something about keeping Conner sedated. He felt the hole in his arm where the IV protruded from his skin begin to burn, after that he couldn't see or or feel anything. But he could hear, I only faintly, for a few more seconds. He stayed half-conscious just long enough to hear the doctor pronounce Murphy Sean MacManus dead at 8:45 a.m.

Later, when the sedatives had worn off, a pretty, innocent-looking blond nurse came to him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said. Those lines that usually sound rehearsed and fake sounded uniquely genuine in her soft voice. Conner could do nothing but offer her a week, sad half-smile. "We thought he might have liked to be buried with his Rosary. But we don't know whose is whose." The nurse held up the two crosses. Conner fixed his gaze at the longer of the two; on Murphy's Rosary.

"The long one is his, but..." Conner drew in a shaky breath. "Give him mine." Conner wanted some part of him to go with Murphy, and he wanted some part of Murphy to stay with him, even thought he knew there was no way they would actually let him have Murphy's Rosary. What did they think he was going to do, hang himself with it?

So there Conner was, thrown in prison _again_, but this time he was alone. This time there would defiantly be no break out. There was just a trial, a conviction, and then something Conner had actually hoped for: a sentence to be executed by lethal injection pending a review.

A review? Isn't that why people sat on death row for decades? No. Conner wasn't going to allow that.

Sitting with his lawyer after the sentence was read, Conner said, "I don't want the stupid fucking review."

Conner's lawyer's eyes widened with disbelief. Apparently he had never been appointed to a client so impatient to be put to death. "What do you mean?"

"It isn't mandatory, is it? I mean, I plead guilty, I was convicted, so what the fuck more do you need to dick around with?"

The attorney chuckled slightly and shook his head. "It's not mandatory. You do have the legal right to request that the court not conduct a review, but..."

"But nothing," Conner interrupted. "I don't want a review. Just fucking stick me and get it over with."

The confused attorney said nothing more. He only gave a silent nod.

And so, at Conner's request, there was no review process. An execution date was set within the next few months. After the date was set, Conner asked the guard the same question every morning.

"Good morning, Jack. What's the date today?"

The guard, who's name was not Jack, chuckled and told him the date as he slipped the breakfast trey through the opening in the cell door.

And so Conner had a mental countdown. The idiots wouldn't let him have a calender and a pen; probably thought he'd stab someone or some stupid shit. It would actually have taken four calenders because, even without the review, apparently it still took four years (five if you count the time the trial it self had taken) to fill up a fucking needle.

Conner had a very simple request for his last meal: a large Domino's deep dish supreme pizza , a bottle of Jack Danial's, and a pack of Carnival Red 100's. The warden was generous and allowed all but the Jack Danial's. He was afraid the alcohol would react badly with the lethal injection. React badly? The injection was already...well, _lethal_, how much worse of a reaction could there be? Conner saw a bit of dark humor in this and chuckled as he exhaled a puff of smoke and watched it fade into the air around him.

Conner watched the clock. It wasn't that he was anxious to die, but he had realized as soon as that blonde nurse has walked away with the Rosaries that his life was basically over. He was locked up for the rest of his life no matter how or when he died He was without freedom, without human contact, without a purpose and, most importantly, he was without Murphy. Murphy had "gone home" as Conner liked to think about it, five years ago. Now Conner was ready, more than ready. He had done what the Lord had called him to do, and he had faith that, though he never considered himself or his brother "Saints," God had accepted Murphy into Heaven and would do the same for him. He was not afraid or even nervous. He was tiered. He just wanted to go home.

The morning of the execution, Conner was allowed to see a priest.

"My son," the priest began, "They have told me that you may have this back." From his pocket, the priest retrieved the Rosary that Conner had not seen in five years, the Rosary that had belonged to Murphy. Conner bent his head forward, closed his eyes and let the feeling of being reunited with just that small part of his brother rush over him like a tidal wave, cleansing him as the priest hung the beaded cross necklace around Conner's neck.

"I've been praying, father," Conner said to the old, gray-haired man. "I've confessed all of my sins. I'm ready to go home."

Conner knelt before the priest, who crossed and blessed him. As the father prayed, Conner clutched the cross of Murphy's Rosary and felt a peace come over him unlike anything he had ever felt. He felt tears swell up in his ocean blue eyes. They were not tears of anger, sadness, or any form of pain, but tears of...an unexplainable emotion that may have been related to relief, freedom, and just complete and utter faith. It was as if he was already kneeling before the throne of Heaven. He felt the all-consuming grace of God and he wept freely and without shame.

Then it was time. With almost no noticeable transition between his cell and the execution room, he found himself strapped down to the table, the heart monitor was hocked up to his chest, and the IVs were in his arm. Then a curtain in front of him was pulled back to reveal a shocking sight. The first thing that was shocking was that they had actually honored his request not to have media present. The second shock came when he recognized Dolly, Duffy, Smecker, and Bloom all sitting in a row. He could understand how Dolly and Duffy got there, but weren't Smecker and Bloom supposed to be in deep hiding?

The shock on his face soon turned to gratitude that he would not die alone. The presence of his friends and allies there reminded him that he was loved, and he smiled a full, genuine smile. His smile widened at the sight of the looks of "what the fuck?" from Dolly and Duffy. Bloom tried to smile back, but it was obvious that she was trying her damnedest not to cry. And Smecker? He looked like he wanted to hulk-smash through the plexiglass and rescue Conner.

The death row former vigilante let the smile fade from his face and gave a look that he hoped would be reassuring to the two former FBI agents. He didn't look away from them when the supervisor asked, "Is there anything you would like to say before this begins?"

One last time, Conner took in the sight of the last four people on earth who cared about him. His smile returned and he said, "I'll tell Murphy you said hello."

The supervisor let everyone know that the process would begin in ten seconds. Conner's face fell somber. He closed his eyes and let the man's voice drift away. He opened his eyes again and looked down at the Rosary he wore. "I'm coming home, Murphy," he said out loud.

Three, two, one.

Conner felt his arms burn at the injection points. His muscles tightened and then relaxed almost immediately. His chest tightened and it got harder to breath. He did not force the breaths from his chest. He closed his eyes for the last time and just let his body relax even farther until his head fell slowly to his left. His last breath passed lips that were curled into the barely noticeable smile that he would die with.

On the other side of the glass, Dolly and Duffy hung their heads, and Smecker wrapped his tense arms around a weeping Bloom.

Conner Norman MacManus was pronounced dead at 8:45 a.m.

**I cried while writing that! Make my tears worth while and review!**


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